Today was the day when Queen Beatrix formally opened the Dutch Parliament. Prinsjesdag, as it’s called, is similar to the State Opening of the British Parliament – an excuse for pomp and circumstance, and a chance to hear both queens (Beatrix and Betty) lay out the plans of their respective governments.

 

We watched the proceedings on telly, beginning with the royal entourage processing in a variey of horse-drawn carriages from Noordeinde Palace to the Binnenhof (the Dutch Parliament buildings), and then watching the Queen’s speech from the throne in the Ridderzaal (Knights’ Hall).

 

What I really adore about living in the Netherlands is the way you get suckered into thinking that things are just the same as in the UK, but then something sneaks up on you and slaps your brain awake to make you realise that, no, they do things differently here. So there I was, watching the procession, with the gilded coach and the over-the-top liveries, and listening to the Dutch commentator droning on. And just as I was settling down to thinking how like the home-life of our own dear queen this was, I snapped awake as I suddenly realised that the commentator appeared to be giving medical histories of the Dutch Royal Family. Had she really just said that Pieter van Vollenhoven had been treated for cancer of the foreskin, and that while he would have regular checkups from now on, his doctors were confident that the treatment had been successful? Yes, I do believe that she had… Perhaps not so like the home life of our own dear queen, after all…